


Winter Wonderland

by Marinia



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bickering, Canon Compliant, Chaos, Chaotic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Movies, Cold Weather, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Dirty Jokes, Family, Family Fluff, Fantasy Fulfillment, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Imagination, M/M, No Angst, Remus being Remus, Sibling Rivalry, Snake Deceit Sanders, Snow, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Temporary Amnesia, Tickle Fights, True Love's Kiss, Winged Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Winged Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Winter Wonderland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21846583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinia/pseuds/Marinia
Summary: “You know what would make your scripts better?”“Less of your interruptions?” Roman guessed, wrongly.“No! More! More everything! More nudity, more cursing- let them see Thomas naked as he vivisects himself to get to the bottom of his issues.” Remus’s voice gained the echoing quality he always did when an idea overwhelmed him with its ‘genius’, as he called it.Roman grimaced. “Rem, whyyy-”~Remus somehow convinces Roman to create a Winter Wonderland together.Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 84
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Winter Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> This is my secret santa gift to the lovely marsupials-of-mars. I had a great time writing it, and I hope you'll have as good a time reading it!!!!
> 
> I hope you'll like it!!! 💖💖💖

“Remus, what the _frick_ -” 

The Duke looked up from the plate in front of him, standing on a beautiful little pedestal of royal squirrel tails, fuzzy fur painted with their blue blood. It put his meal on face level, so he could just _throw_ his face into the food and SLURP it up like a rabid hyena! 

“You said I could choose the date this time!” The Dark Side grinned, wiggling his torso and making his epaulettes jingle with glee. “And _I_ thought you needed a little _change in direction!”_

“I will _not_ eat raw spaghetti,” Roman screeched, tone at odds with the easy way he plopped down on the picnic blanket, spread over the moist, moorish ground. The blanket was already partly soaked through, covered in little wet spots, but Roman had gotten hold of a little patch of dry. He couldn’t know if it was luck or his brother’s intervention. 

“But it’s all soft! Look, I even added my _favourite_ deodorant, and you won’t even _try it?!”_ Remus pouted. Roman sighed. 

The Prince grabbed his plate from his own squirrel-y table, trying to cast it no more than a passing glance, conjuring up a fork with a twist of the hand. It ended up kind of bent and twisted, the silver bloated and tinged. 

At least it fit into the rest of Remus’ realm, Roman conceded. “You owe me something for this, you know?” 

“ _Puh-lease_ , you owed me something for your fancy-schmancy dinner!” 

“No, I _don’t!_ It’s not like you even stuck to the dress-code! You _hooligan_!” 

“But I wore a suit!” Remus grinned, showing off sharp, crooked teeth. 

_“_ Your _birthday suit_ doesn’t _count!”_ Roman was growing red with indignation. It contrasted with the color of his sash. 

“I mean,” Remus grinned, sly and slick and Roman already wished he’d brought earplugs- “Logan sure liked it. You should’ve seen the way he went down on me after, _oH DADDY-”_

Roman screeched, throwing his plate right into his brother’s face, watching the soft, gooey deodorant cover his awful moustache, and the uncooked spaghetti get stuck in his hair. 

“I will _throw you_ into a pit of lava _,_ you disgusting _cretin-”_

Roman’s voice cracked and Remus cackled, throwing his head back, letting noodles fall onto the blanket. “You sure can _try_ , but you’ll fail _~”_

“You think you can _stop me?”_

“I know I do, little poo!” Remus grinned, wiggling like a fish on dry land. 

Roman let out a war cry, unsheathing his sword just as Remus stood up to sprint through his forest, filled with black, thorned and toothy trees with blooming fruit the colour of bile and rust. 

Both brothers shrieked and laughed, the Prince falling over sentient, bony roots while the Duke climbed up a lighthouse standing in the middle of the forest, nails elongating into talons to hold him up, and tentacles ripping out of his back to assist him even more. 

The Duke giggled and snorted at the feeling of cold, moist air on his dirty, sweat-slicked skin. Flies and mosquitoes were already starting to swarm around him, the darling pests.

But Roman was on his tail, having chosen to take the stairs of the ruin, jumping over mountains of debris and fighting off the beasts in his way, until he reached the top- 

“No!” Roman whined, frustrated and petty at the same time, as his brother appeared in the doorway, Morningstar in hand. “This is _unfair!”_

“What fun is there in being fair! Victory or death!” Remus screeched, both brothers entangled in a fight that left neither cuts nor bruises, not that they’d admit it. “Just imagine!” His voice got even higher with his excitement. “We could fall down onto the floor, breaking our bones into _tiny,_ tiny pieces that flow through our blood and get stuck in our muscles until we’re nothing but-” 

“That’s not even how bodies _work_ ,” Roman interrupted, even though he knew little more. 

“But it _should_ be!” 

“Never!” The shout was boisterous and cheesy, leading up to Roman’s jump, the elder pinning the Duke to the ground, sword pinned over the other’s mouth. 

The Prince grinned from where he sat. “I _wo-hon,” he_ sang. “And in your realm! Hah!” 

“Oh please, I let you win!” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“Uh- _huh!_ You’re just too _limited_ to get it!” 

“You’re too chicken-shit to admit I won!” 

“Ohhh, you think I’m _dirty?”_ Remus wiggled his brows, along with the rest of him, and Roman recoiled. 

“Ew, what the _heck-_ just admit I won! Or- Or I’ll _cut off your moustache!”_ The royal’s eyes shone with malevolent glee, pure and unadulterated joy as his brother gasped. 

“You _wouldn’t!”_

“You know I would!” 

“You _heathen!”_

“Says _you?”_

“Like you’re so innocent?!” 

“Yes, I am! That’s literally my purpose!” 

“Bleurgh, _boring_ -” 

“You didn’t have to invite me here,” Roman pouted. 

“You didn’t have to be a stick in the mud!” 

Roman groaned, leaning back until his hair was almost touching the filthy ground- not that he’d ever subject his darling locks to such a fate! “I literally _have_ to be a stick in the mud, ‘cause everything about _you_ is so- so _squalid!”_

Remus gasped- “That’s a big word! Have you been spending time with _my_ boyfriend?!” 

“We literally work together to make scripts, you simpleton,” Roman deadpanned. He’d _definitely_ been spending time with Logan. 

“You know what would make your scripts better?” 

“Less of your interruptions?” Roman guessed, wrongly. 

“No! More! More everything! More nudity, more cursing- _let them see Thomas naked as he vivisects himself to get to the bottom of his issues.”_ Remus’s voice gained the echoing quality he always did when an idea overwhelmed him with its ‘genius’, as he called it. 

Roman grimaced. “Rem, whyyy-” 

“Why not!” 

“Because that’s not what Thomas wants to _create_ right now-” 

“It never is!” Remus screamed. It wasn’t quite as joking as it should’ve been. Roman recoiled at the bitterness in his brother’s tone. “You know, if you ever gave me a _chance_ , then I’d be just as powerful as you, _golden boy_.” The Duke pouted. 

Roman sighed, letting himself flop on Remus’ chest, effectively knocking the air out of him. Roman snorted, and Remus spluttered. “You know, you don’t have to simmer like an overcooked cyclops stew.” 

“What if I _like_ to simmer, though. Being all hot and bothered.” 

Roman punched Remus in the side. “Gross. And I know you don’t because you’re allergic to baths, Remus the Grouch.” The Prince sighed. “If you were a little cleaner sometimes, you could create more, you know?” 

Remus snorted. “How boring would that be? No, no, I like myself just like this.” 

Roman tried not to be envious at the easy admission, at the truth in it. “Well, it hasn’t gotten you very far. You’re still the lil’ one,” he teased. 

“Now you’re just being stupid again-” 

“I am _not_ stupid!” 

Remus patted the Prince’s fluffy locks with his grubby, filthy palms. “Sure, you’re not. You know, there’s a reason that _I_ snatched the smart one.” 

Roman groaned, rolling off of Remus, a soft, lush carpet materialising under him. It even had a pattern. “You’re _insufferable_ . Besides- I’m the one responsible for all of Thomas’ work! I’m _clearly_ the better Creativity,” he preened. “And even if you wanted to know for sure, the only way would be to create something. _Together_ . And it’s not like _that’s_ gonna happen.” 

The wry edge to the sentence, it was almost too bitter. Remus didn’t like it. “Why not?” He pouted, so much it ended with him sticking out his tongue and letting himself fall on his back, skull cracking dangerously when coming into contact with the stone. Roman flinched. “We’re **_Creativity!_ ** Watch them try and stop us, they wouldn’t have a _chance_.” His smile could be called bloodthirsty. 

And it achieved its goal; Roman couldn’t hide his snort, even as he rolled away, leaning on his elbows as he spoke. He sounded like he was running lines for the first time as he spoke again. “It’d be honourless, though!” Remus knew he had him. “And what- you wanna force them into a world of our creation? You know that Virgil would rip the eye out, right?” Roman nodded towards the purple eye Virgil had given Remus as a kid, in exchange for a golden one usually unique to Creativity. Remus gasped, dramatically, at the idea alone, one hand rising up as if to cradle it. Virgil’s eye still looked slightly off, but it was _his!_

“How dare you imply our friendship is so frail! Virgil would _love_ being in a world of our creation! I could give him spider legs! To match Amy Lee!” 

“And scare Patton off for good? He’d _revolt!”_

“Isn’t that the fun of it?” 

“ _Remuuuuuus-”_

The Dark Side groaned. “You’re such a party pooper! Why did I even let you get into _my_ room? Look at you! Already ruining it with your-” Remus’ face twisted with a disgust both well-known and well faked. “ _you-ness.”_

Roman gasped at that, outraged! “How dare you! You think you can just-” The prince pouted, but he’d call it brooding. “I will not stand for this, just so you know.” 

“U-huh.” Remus didn’t seem impressed. “You know what we could get if we did this together? _Wings.”_

He was met with indignant spluttering- it wasn’t like Roman would ever dream of having wings! Like he’d dream about flying through the skies and soaring above the highest mountains! Like he and Remus used to tame dragons together to fly them! Like he could just see himself leaning back feeling Dee run his smooth, scaled fingers through soft feathers- 

“You’re being unfair!” 

Remus grinned, showing off his sharp teeth. “Is it wooorking?” 

Roman stuck out his bottom lip, making him look even more like a child. _“No,”_ he said, petulantly. 

“Liar, liar, liar-” 

“Oh, shut up!” 

“No.” 

Roman groaned, extensively. “So, we’ll _do_ the fantasy land, are you happy now? -” 

Remus set up to respond, but Roman already continued. 

“- because I just _know_ that Patton will be upset, and Logan is gonna poke holes into the world building-” Roman chose to ignore his brother’s comment to that- “but _sure_ , let’s go do this like there won’t be an issue.” 

“Because there won’t! We can just make them _forget that they ever were anyone else, leaving Thomas alone, living as nothing but a shell of his former self while all his Sides are locked away and can’t escape, and he is locked away too, away from all his friends, and he’ll begin imagining entirely new Sides that won’t abandon him, and then we’ll slowly dissolve and_ **_die!_ ** _”_

“... what the _hell_ , Remus.” 

“Wouldn’t that be fun?!” The Duke sounded entirely too excited. 

Roman wove his hand through the air, and the colours and textures and smells bled away like water paints, just to be replaced by the moors that build the border between their two kingdoms, and the blank space endlessly stretching around them: the white and black and grey and red and green, the _everything_ and the _nothing_ that surrounded them without ever ending, that was omnipresent and nothing at all, that just waited to be painted in by the two royals it’d appointed to hold the brushes. 

* * *

“I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree- I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know,” Patton crooned, from his precarious place on the counter, trying in vain to get the cookie cutters that Logan had _hidden_ there after his annual spring cleaning spree, claiming that ‘they wouldn’t need them until December anyway, so it’s only practical.’

Practical, yeah right! Patton pursed his lips as he tried to reach up even further, tongue sticking out of his mouth- his reindeer-patterned pyjama pants were slipping on the counter, and maybe he should've gotten dressed before starting his mission- Icing's 6, since they were six Sides and all loved icing!- but his cookies were a _priority!_

So, he reached out further, wishing that he was just a few inches taller- not even _tall_ , like Virge or Roman, but just a few inches over the five feet mark! He strained, wiggling his fingers as if it’d convince the bag of cookie cutters to fly into his hands, and he was so _close-_

Virgil came into the entryway, mismatched eyes half-lidded, the rings under them not yet accentuated with eyeshadow, padding into the kitchen, to the coffee-maker, and Patton twisted to greet him, to maybe ask for a kiss before Virgil smelt like bitter coffee.

But... thing was, Patton had never been the best with things like _balance_ , or _coordination_. So, his yelp wasn’t even surprised as he overbalanced and fell, just startled, hands paddling through the air like a penguin trying to fly.

But he didn’t fall onto the kitchen tiles- Virgil caught him, in strong arms shaking with adrenaline, and holding him close to his chest that heaved with heavy breaths. He looked around as if confused, as if catching Patton had been more of an instinct than a deliberate action. 

Patton positively _melted_ \- "Look at that, sweetie! It seems that I _fell_ for you, huh!" He grinned even more when Virgil snorted. "That was terrible," he muttered, his tone too soft to be serious.

"You know you love it~" 

"Do I?" Patton gasped at the question, faux shock in his eyes, hands going up to frame his face. 

Virgil couldn't help it, he broke, looking away as a laugh escaped him. "Guess I do. Cheater." 

Patton giggled, easily settling in Virgil's lap as his partner sat down on the dinner table. "It's not cheating if you're aware of me doing it!" 

"Yeah, no, I call bullshit on that one-" Patton gasped, and Virgil looked at him, deadpan, with mismatching purple-golden eyes. "You know I'll never stop swearing, Pat." 

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Patton pouted, but the expression fell from his face when Virgil kissed him, first on the nose, then on his forehead, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth- Patton was the one to finally _actually_ kiss him, feeling Virgil's teasing smile against his lips.

"Teaser," he whined, and Virgil laughed at him, all deep and soft and lovely. 

"You know you love it," he mirrored his boyfriend, shit-eating grin on his face. 

"If you keep that up, I'm gonna cut off your caffeine intake." 

Virgil gasped, hurt, threatened, _offended_ , and lifted Patton to sit on the table as he himself hurried to the coffee maker, one arm wrapped around the machine while the other was busy handling it, black goodness quickly filling a waiting cup. "I can't believe you'd separate Báthory and I like that!" 

"You better believe it, Mister," Patton threatened, jumping off the table, hand hovering over the cable plugging Báthory into the wall- Virgil wrapped his hands around him before he could do anything truly _evil_ , and Patton grinned, legs finding their way around Virgil's waist. "Looks like you can't hold your coffee now," he pondered. "Not without dropping me." 

Virgil tsked. "You played me, love." A kiss was pressed to his lips as the Side leant against the counter, holding his boyfriend up. "Absolutely dastardly, such a wolf in sheep's clothing, a true villain I've got here in my arms." Patton giggled as Virgil spoke, until his partner's hands wandered higher, finding his love handles, his weak spot- 

The moral Side truly started laughing when Virge began tickling him, his partner laughing through silly sentences and joking demands to punish the evildoer, the threat to his dearest Báthory- They almost hit Virgil's mug to the floor in their game, not that either one of them cared, sinking into each other eventually, down the counter to sit on the floor, Virgil's hands running through Patton's hair, sorting through tangles and lightly scratching at his scalp.

They were only interrupted when Logan came into the room, almost stumbling over their tangled legs. He blinked, confused expression at odds with his put-together appearance.

It was only eight-thirty, and he already wore a perfectly pressed dress shirt, with a dark blue tie in a perfect Eldredge knot. In his hand, he carried a newspaper mirroring the one Thomas was holding, already opened on the page with the crosswords. The writing was still blurry, the print not quite precise as Thomas still hadn’t quite read it. He used the newspaper to point at them, his brows furrowing.

Virgil could see the loading screen behind his eyes, the tiredness still clinging to him like Remus’ vines sometimes would. “Are you… engaged in greatly pressing matters?” he asked, stepping over their legs to get to the coffee machine. He took Virgil’s abandoned mug, filling it with cream and sugar until nearly all bitterness must’ve been drowned out, handing it to his friend with stilted, still-tired motions.

Virgil hummed his thanks. “Nah, we just got side-tracked. You wanna help make breakfast?”

“I’d offer cookies to bribe you, but I didn’t get to roll them out yet! _Someone_ put the cookie cutters on the highest shelf again,” Patton pouted, even as he- reluctantly- stood, helping Virgil up on the way.

“Please, Patton, my choice of placement for your seasonal cutouts in usage for baked goods was entirely rational, seeing as they aren’t used for eleven-twelfths of the year.”

“Yeah, all I’m hearing is that you were _wrong_ , Mister!” 

Virgil snorted into his coffee at that, watching the playful argument with interested eyes, while whisking together eggs and starting to put some bread rolls in the oven to puff up. Patton and Logan’s bickering offered a nice background noise as he scrambled the eggs and finished putting together their breakfast, gently forcing a coffee into Logan’s hands to shut him up while herding him to his chair.

Patton smiled, seeing Virgil be such a mother-hen. He knew his boyfriend was just as much of a softie as him, Virge was just too prickly to show it; it made Patton feel all the warmer, to know his sweetie trusted them so much! He pressed a kiss to Virgil’s cheek as he sat down himself, complimenting Virgil on his cooking and seeing him blush behind his foundation, even though he tried brushing it off.

Logan rolled his eyes at the display. “So, you are planning on restocking our supply of ‘Christmas cookies’ today?” He was smearing Crofter’s over his scrambled eggs.

Virgil grimaced and Patton politely looked away. “Yeah,” Patton smiled, “we just need the twins to decorate them!” Roman and Remus would throw a fit if they weren’t included in the decorating process, combining their creative efforts to try and make the same number of cookies again, _for them alone to decorate!_

Remus would cackle menacingly the whole time while Roman soliloquized theatrically, and the oven would start to smoke in the background, both brothers too wrapped up in their drama to even notice, up until the entire house smelled of smoke- it had happened before, and everyone in the mindscape had made it their mission to _never_ let it happen again.

With that mutual understanding in the room Logan nodded, seriously. “Shall I get them? They should both be in the Imagination, correct?”

“Yeah, duh, genius,” Virgil teased. “It’s their ‘Twins-day’.”

Logan nodded, chewing on his egg-Crofter sandwich. The logic of the twins naming a day of the week entirely after their usage of it still seemed rather confounding to him. He might ask Remus how they got the name… He smiled, slightly, thinking of his partner. It was, of course, irrational to be feeling happiness at nothing but the thought of a person, but then again- Patton always claimed emotions were good and healthy and all that didn’t he?

And trusting those emotions, those ideas, always resulted in lovely memories with Remus. He could still remember how they’d created an entire Atlantis based on nothing but science and deep-sea horror during a double date/ competition with Roman and Deceit, who’d gone a far more classical route.

“I’ll try and be back as soon as the baked goods have reached a temperature satisfactory for decorating,” Logan said, standing up from the table. “Is there any piece of more general decoration I should bring from the Imagination, to enrich the atmosphere of holiday cheer?”

The room was already adorned with fir and strings of light, making it look like fairies residing between the branches. The tree in the living room stood so tall they’d had to lift up the ceilings to accommodate it, not to mention the shining and sparkling and glimmering baubles and bells between the evergreen branches. Stockings were hung on the windowsill in lieu of a fireplace, each of them made that year during their annual Crafting Day. Patton hoarded them all in his room, each of the stockings holding the memories of the festivities each Side had, as well as the ones Thomas had made with the Sides’ help.

Logan allowed himself a sigh, seeing them, seeing them all filled with presents that wouldn’t be opened until later that day. He heard Patton decline his offer, most likely on behalf of Virgil. There was not a chance that the moral Side would ever resist the temptation of even more memorabilia.

The logical Side strolled to the door to the Imagination, a gargantuan gate with engravings colored in each color of the rainbow, showing all possible adventures and sights and so much more. It had Logan stopping, for just a second, watching them, the way they almost seemed to move across the wooden gate.

“You never quite get used to it either, hm? Logic?” Deceit laughed when Logan turned, so quickly his vision must be swimming. Still, he caught his friend, keeping him from falling on his face.

“You are being unnecessarily menacing,” Logan grumbled.

“No such thing,” Dee simpered.

Logan rolled his eyes, primly. Insufferable viper. _“That_ can be argued about.”

“Shall we set a date? You know I just _adore_ refuting your attempts at sensibility.” Deceit looked at his gloved fingers as he did, inspecting the golden embroidery on them. They’d been a present from Roman for their one-year-anniversary. They were gorgeous, just like the Prince himself.

“Like you ever manage doing so,” Logan said, down his glasses and his nose, rather pretentious-looking for a man with a serious jam-addiction and an even worse love for _goblins_.

Deceit sniffed, just about to ask if Logan had any tabular proof of that, when he noticed the colors on the gate _shift_. It shouldn’t be unusual, the patterns regularly changed, it should be expected, but… Deceit had never seen it in person. The gate had always been steadfast in his presence, like it was with the other Sides, if they could be believed. The gate seemed almost bashful of being seen when changing, and Dee had assumed it to be a manifestation of some deeply embedded Artistic Insecurity-

And that seemed probable now, as he watched colors shift and change, back and forth, with purpose but without order, patterns being changed with no regard or regret, quickly being replaced by still-moving images, all of it sleek and slow, wood raising and lowering with a creaking noise, almost sounding close to breaking.

It drew both Sides in, hypnotized them, led them closer. They wanted, yearned, _needed_ to be closer, hands finding the wood, finding the changes taking place underneath the pads of their fingers, noticing and just barely pressing back. They couldn’t step away, couldn’t separate their hands from the gate, until-

It opened, with a flash of bright light, red and green blending, turning orange and blue, then separating again, enveloping them both blinding them and swallowing them up.

Logan gasped, stepping closer, gazing, gaping, at the word starting to come into being before him. Needled trees pines and firs, enlivened with dark sprites, had pushed through the soil, growing pale berries the colour of bone. The light fell easily though their misshapen leaves, and alongside it thick, fluffy snowflakes, covering the ground in a blanket of snow. In the distance, he could see houses that grew out of the earth like mushrooms, the light coming from them reminding him of will o’wisps, brightness rebelling against the white forest. He turned back, to see Deceit’s reaction, to see the snake’s eyes glisten with wonder, or his limbs shake with the cold. Snow fell, on Logan’s arms and hands and hair. His breath came out a shuddering gasp, exhale a white cloud rising up into the skies. “You must despise this weather,” Logan muttered, to himself and to Dee. He was surprised it took the snake so long to start complaining. Usually the cold had him whining in a matter of seconds. “Are you pouting?” He asked, turning around to find the snake, but…

He wasn’t there. The world around him was white, no trace of Deceit’s black costume, no trace of his yellow scales, no trace of anyone at all. The only footsteps in the snow were his own.

Deceit was gone.

* * *

Logan wandered the woods. His steps were starting to stumble and sway, his breath was already shaking. His arms had encircled his chest, like tight vines, squeezing all the warmth he had left as deep into his body as possible. There was no sound to be heard, except for the snow crunching beneath his shoes.

He grimaced, feeling the white sludge collect between his toes, his socks damp and wet and cold, his toes starting to lose the feeling inside them. Office casual truly was no fit for such brumal circumstances. The logical Side sighed, looking up through the trees, branches weighed down with puffy snow, glistening in the sunlight like gemstones. It clearly had Roman’s handprints all over it, but… the scurrying wild beasts in the bushes, the low humming of arcane magic just under the surface of the tree’s bark… it was deeply familiar, in the best of ways. Had Logan not been so cold, he would’ve inspected the trees especially, used a scalpel to carve off their bark and look at what hid beneath. With Remus, it could be anything- a virus infesting the woods, a painting of grotesque proportions adorning the trunk, a beast lurking underneath, just waiting to jump him and lovingly attempt ripping off his face.

A shuddering laugh escaped him. Remus did know how to keep him on his toes, keep him guessing. No amount of logic could ever hope to unravel pure, unfiltered creativity.

He sighed to himself, looking around the wood. It hadn’t changed in appearance since he’d been sucked in. He could’ve just as well not moved at all. The sun sure hadn’t- he would admit _that_ to be a nice change, feeling the rays of light hit his skin, almost gifting him a semblance of warmth.

He followed the white puff of air he’d released. He just wished to find an end to this, to not become one of the frozen corpses laying by the wayside, not decomposing or rotting, but just staying there, blanketed by snow and frost, until-

There was music.

He couldn’t even bring up the energy to grimace as he ran towards it, steps in tune with Mariah Carey’s voice. The town came into view quickly, quaint houses with diligently smoking chimneys and rich decorations of fir and light garlands. It was beautiful, in a postcard sort of way, just like the girl singing on a clearly handcrafted stage, singing the all-beloathed Christmas classic with vigor and a small orchestra to accompany her.

He would’ve scoffed at the crowd around them, had they not caught him as his legs gave out, shaking and trembling- he tried to reach out to one of the many kind hands helping him up, but he could barely grab them, and he wished he could resist, but… when the crowd let him fall into a tub filled with pleasantly warm water, soaking through his frost-covered clothes, well, all he was capable of doing was leaning back, feeling the cold slowly be tempted into leaving its place clinging to his bones.

He didn’t even hear the townspeople’s’ instructions or their well-wishes, but they only snorted with a fondness lent by their creators. Instead he leant back, breathing deeply, almost nodding off when he heard the door hit the wall-

Remus came into the room, his legs only intermittently hitting the ground. Logan gasped, seeing the reason: large, vulture-like wings sprouted from Remus’ back, from knobs of cartilage growing from his shoulders, making him bend over just a bit, giving him an impression of scheming, of cunning, of slouching and of villainy. Logan saw them, reaching out his hands to touch and inspect before even blinking the fatigue out of his eyes.

Remus giggled at him, shrill and fond and slanting, stepping closer to make it easier for him. “You sure missed me, huh?” He teased, wings flaring out, feathers being shown off. “You know you can just tell me if these babies turn you- “ the Side screeched as Logan sprayed him with water, huffing and puffing up, his wings fluffing up as if wanting to intimidate a fearsome predator.

Logan rolled his eyes, tugging his partner closer by the hand, the wet, clingy fabric of his dress-shirt protesting, running pruned fingers over the new wings. He smiled to himself, marveling at the closeness to reality they possessed.

They’d watched a lot of nature documentaries lately, and Logan had of course known that Remus liked them- hell, the scenes of eagles and buzzards hunting down their prey had him almost out of his seat- but to see it reflected here, in his partner’s very own creations… he grew warm, and it had little to do with the warm water he still sat in.

“You like them?” Remus asked, obviously preening, and Logan hummed, hands running over the feathers, grooming them, watching his boyfriend lean into the touch.

“They’re rather lifelike; a stunning application of animalistic body parts to a humanistic form.” Logan’s voice was soft, almost clinical. The way Remus grinned at that, he knew exactly the appreciation Logan wanted to express, the affection.

“You know me, my Spanish donkey, I do always aim to _please_.” Remus wiggled his shoulders at that, his wings moving alongside it.

Logan couldn’t hold back a laugh, tugging Remus even closer, until the Side’s knees hit the edge of the tub he still sat in. “Yes? Do try and support that claim.”

Remus grinned, showing off sharp, crooked teeth, before cannonballing into the tub, causing a formidable amount of water to splay over and cover the hardwood floor around them. “You asked for this- “ he screeched, as he started tickling Logan without any trace of mercy, hearing his partner scream and wail!

Both Sides laughed, especially when Logan managed to knock the tub over with his struggling. He, logically as ever, of course used the opportunity to tickle Remus, making his wings beat against the floor. It only ended when they couldn’t move anymore with their giggles, when they fell unto each other, when Remus wrapped his arms around Logan- cleaner now than he’d been in weeks, Logan noted with a clever smile.

Remus teleported them onto a couch, filled with sludge and slime, smelling distinctly like the ocean, like kelp, with a matching dark green color, and sticky surface. Logan didn’t really want to stand up from it, and he wasn’t sure if he even could. Not without a good amount of struggling. His boyfriend covered them both with a thick blanket, made of sheep’s wool and strengthened with a swan’s feathers, the two partners curling against each other the world outside sleeping with them as the snow fell and the stars rose unto the skies.

* * *

Roman rode through the white woods. His peacock wings were neatly tucked in behind him, thus protected from the cold; they were gorgeous , amber edges next to black primaries and prettily patterned secondaries, white and dark, almost striped- not that they could compare to the tail of green feather under it, the tail that flew in the wind as he rode down the small path. Shimmering, blue eyes of feathers look up into the sky, up onto the constellations telling stories of allies and adversaries, of two winged royals protecting their realm against all harm- Roman had admittedly claimed most of the input there, although Remus had gladly added grime and gore to the legends.

But he wasn't looking for towns of storytellers or troupes of bards, not now. He was searching for someone far less admiring, though no less adoring. Not that Dee would show it, of course- Roman had to grin, foolish and besotted, thinking of the way his partner always tried to evade admitting his feelings, like they weren't mutual, weren't clear in the way he looked at him, bickered with him, supported him.

The Prince sighed, looking down to the forest floor again, hand running over his mare's brown coat, leading her further forwards, down and down, deeper into the forest. He knew that Dee had to be here, he felt his presence, the familiar sense of warmth, of protection and slithering and curling, the smell of lemon and the taste of caramel on his tongue. Dee loved the sweets he created, even more than the ones he always snuck from Patton, like the moral Side wouldn't give them a whole batch if he asked, wouldn't joke about getting some meat on the pretty snake's bones.

But, when usually his love's presence called out to him, led him close like a beacon, now it was diffused, floating through the air in tender wisps, seeming to cling to the fluffy snowflakes falling from the cloudless sky. Like Dee didn't want him there- Roman banished the thought as soon as it came to him, hurrying his horse on even more. Deceit had to just be enjoying the Imagination, nothing more. Was probably snuggled up in a cozy hut, sitting in front of a fireplace, drinking hot chocolate and ignoring his lactose intolerance, the handsome fool.

The Prince only startled out of his revelry with his steed's disquiet, the mare's forelegs bouncing in place, as if battling between the desire to carry her creator where he wished to go, and some deep, carnal instinct to _flee_. Roman frowned, patting his horse's neck, but she didn't calm, didn't even seem to notice it. Didn't even seem to notice the Prince dismount, until his hand was pressed to her snout, and he was muttering calming words to her, between worried glances to the white woods in front of them.

Roman knew that his love would be in those woods, and it teased a laugh out of him. It wouldn't the first time for Dee to play either the daunting villain or the snappy damsel, or even a secretly honorable assassin. And it wouldn't be the first time that Roman ran towards his invitation, letting the Imagination mold itself to their shared story, until all that existed was them, until they'd painted another legend into the skies. So he told his mare to get back to her stable, and his hand took hold of his sword as he strutted into the dangerous woods, the snow crunching under his feet growing progressively harder, sharper, the trees turning taller, their branches thinner, the clouds collecting overhead, the winter wonderland becoming the home of a villain, and Roman couldn't help smiling, pride in his features, at the way his love and his realm had created something so beautiful together.

His smile grew even wider as he caught sight of the castle- a veritable palace, like the ones built by the Arabs after their conquest of Spain, grand and majestic, the light brick almost glowing in the darkness as it grew into the air. The outer wall, interspersed with fat towers with small windows, loomed over him like a malevolent apparition, like a ghost of grandness past, shining still against the darkness, offering only glimpses of the buildings protected by the wall, only glimpses of towers and grand palaces. Thinking of the beauty within, it almost stole Roman’s breath away.

He stepped closer to the great castle, to the enormous building, starting to scale the outer wall that seemed mountainous in its height. He couldn’t wait to see his love again, to meet with him in glorious combat and fabulous flirtation.

* * *

“Are ya sure you’re not _thirsty_ for some of _this?”,_ Remus asked, wiggling his shoulders, his torso, his entire body with the question. It was a wonder that the flask in his hand didn’t fall to the ground. Logan grimaced, even as his eyes stayed on the bag in front of him, already close to bursting with all the Research Tools he insisted on taking with him. A world created by both Creativities simply _demanded_ exploring.

“I will not ingest sulfuric acid,” he said. He couldn’t even bring up any indignation about the impossibility of the request- it had been all used up somewhere around the eighth time his partner had asked. He was only glad that Remus wouldn’t ingest the acid himself-

“Oh, wait, what if _I_ drink it?”

Logan cursed himself for- ah, what was the term? ‘jinxing’ it, before turning around, taking the flask for himself, cradling it close to his chest. “You will decidedly _not!”_ He exclaimed, not at all frantic or worried.

Remus aww-ed at him, for some- senseless reason, most likely. Logan blushed. “You do care,” the Duke smiled, snuggling down on Logan, his wings cocooning around them like a protective igloo of feathers.

“Of course I do,” he muttered, attempting by all means to sound unflustered, “I wouldn’t be your partner if I did not care for, or loved you-”

“Logan!” Remus screeched, “don’t be lewd!”

The logical Side snorted, blowing a raspberry on his partner’s forehead, before turning back to his bag. “Then we should start our journey, or I will talk all about my- _feelings_ for you.”

Remus gasped. “No one wants that!”

Logan nodded, seriously. “And yet it is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make, for the sake of science and curiosity. _Honeybear.”_ Out of his mouth, the pet name sounded like a threat. Both Sides shuddered as they heard it.

“You’re a monster.” Admiration was warring with aversion, at words so perverted.

“I have learned from the best,” Logan said, hands fiddling with his glasses. “Now let’s go, I am rather wishing to see how the core of this co-created world has manifested.” He stepped forward, out of the room, swaying under the weight of his bag.

Remus sighed, almost love-struck. He ran after his partner, wings fluttering and taking him off the ground, putting Logan’s hair in a great amount of disarray. The disgruntled expression on his face had Remus wheezing in his flight, even as he got to the stables, whistling.

Logan just reached the stables in time to see the great steed come out of his box, wearing a saddle made for two, with gorgeous, green embroidery showing the process of the minotaur being made, in excruciating detail. He couldn’t even be certain whether he should be repulsed or amazed at the artwork; it was beautiful.

Remus wiggled his eyebrows at him, and he crossed his arms, arguing with him the same way other couples would exchange declarations of love. He would _not_ share a horse with him.

* * *

Roman panted as he rested the balcony overseeing the great hall of the palace. Two great, empty thrones stood on a great pedestal, and murals covered the walls. Beautiful antiques decorated the room, shimmering golden, red, blue, green, gems and precious metals showcasing the riches of the castle’s occupant.

Roman hummed a melody to himself, already giddy at the idea of seeing his love- the castle, the hidden position, it had to be a special kind of idea! And so he started his way, turning his back to the great hall and facing the labyrinthine paths of the palace, to find his wayward love!

He traversed the dark corridors, marked the parted floors and noted all the precious decorations- the portraits of Kings, Queens and legends, the stained-glass windows presenting myths older than the land they sat in, vases with poetry engraved into them. Roman watched them with adoring eyes, seeing his lover in every piece.

He didn’t even notice how he got wrapped up in the story Dee was spinning, how his hair was growing to brush his shoulders, how a circlet was holding it back, how a cape dramatically flared out behind him, how his boots got heels and how his katana became a classic swords, with a golden hilt. He only saw it when he hit a mirror, golden and gorgeous, and he grinned, seeing the chivalry of his attire.

The Prince preened, letting his wings stretch out, the green tail seeming almost like a second cape, the blue eyes almost like precious gems, the way they shone. The Prince looked at his reflection, and he couldn’t help run, running towards his love and whatever he had planned.

When he found his Snake, it wasn’t how he’d imagined it. Dee sat on an armchair akin to a throne, wrapped in a cape as fuzzy as a blanket, and yellow as the sun. Behind him a fire was crackling, a painting of a great, amphibian dragon looming down on them. His golden scales shone in the firelight, akin to the ones adorning Dee’s face.

Roman grinned, cocky and heroic and playful, seeing the image of a villain, already thinking of whatever monologue his snake must’ve prepared. “You hadn’t expected justice to break into your sanctum of malevolence, my arduous adversary! A grave mistake you’ll be sure to regret soon, I suspect.” His teeth shone as he smiled, like pearls.

Dee’s, in turn, were borne as the snake hissed at him. His legs were hidden beneath the long cape- it almost looked like a coat, wrapped around him as if to protect him from the coldness outside. “You suspect me an evil-doer, for what?” Dee looked at him with narrowed eyes, gloved fingers tapping on his throne’s armrest. “Do you suspect me of a crime I have no recollection of committing, your Highness?”

Roman gasped, a theatrical sound, as he fell unto one knee, hand falling to his chest as if deeply moved. “You suspect me a liar? A traitor to my crown and my people- oh, what misdeed have I done to let such dishonor stain my name!”

His snake didn’t laugh, didn’t smile, when usually he’d have to bite back his giggles at such drama. Roman tried not to worry about it. Maybe he was particularly deep in his role?

Whatever was the case, he had no time to worry about it now! Dee started to speak again, his legs twitching beneath his cape, movements oh-so serpentine, oh-so graceful. “No greater misdeed than all your precious people, no misdeed that comes with much guilt-” he stood from his throne, but instead of legs, his torso rested on a strong, coiled tail. Golden scales shimmering in the firelight like diamonds. “- after all, they all think the dragon to be in possession of a pretty royal,” he sneered.

Roman wanted to simper, wanted to adore and praise, seeing his love so invested in his role. “Well, my gorgeous enemy-turned-ally, I do know of one pretty royal you have in your grasp,” Roman teased.

Deceit stopped in his tracks, looking at the Prince as if he’d turned into a madman, before letting out a laugh. “Are you so charming to each enemy you face?”

Roman smiled, charming, stepping closer, marveling at the way his love’s scales shimmered. He looked like a living myth, a siren come to tempt him, a gorgeous mirage to haunt his dreams- “Only those who turn out to be good, only those who are beautiful, who are graceful, who are _you_ -”

He tried to cup Dee’s face, to lean into a kiss, to sweep his snake off his feet, but Deceit slithered out of his reach. The Snake smirked at him, taking the hand Roman tried to catch him with. “I’m not so easily charmed, pretty royal,” he crooned, even as he felt the opposite, as he felt a warmth beneath his scales that had nothing to do with the fire, a familiarity that had nothing to do with his castle, a yearning that had little to do with the Prince’s pretty face.

Roman stepped closer to him, his warm hands had Dee’s skin prickling, as if he was touching fireworks, as if he was touching bottled lightning, as if he was grasping at something _great_. He held his breath, watching the Prince to see what he would do next, and he couldn’t help but giggle, choked, as the royal brought his knuckles to his lips, kissing them painfully softly. “Are you sure that you possess no desire for me, no wish to come with me, my darling snake?”

The words were familiar, were known, as was the teasing smile on the Prince’s face. The way his heart beat, wild and frantic and smitten, it felt familiar too. “And what if I did,” he asked, whispered, not stepping closer, but not retreating either. “Would you sweep me off my feet then?”

“If you desire it,” Roman grinned, teased, and Dee tugged him closer, smiling as he saw the freckles on his face, looking down to their joined hands. His were still hidden under gloves with the most extravagant design stitched unto them with shimmering, golden silk.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten into this place, wasn’t sure who he even was, exactly, but… with Roman so close, he could feel the taste of knowledge on his lips already. He leaned in to kiss him.

* * *

The mighty steed trotted through the white forest. Remus grinned as he sang along to the wind’s tune, a bastardisation of ‘last Christmas’ his lyrics and his wings the conductor. Logan leant back, against Remus’ front, as if that would do anything but accelerate what he’d been forced to _endure_. He was debating whether or not to tell his partner that Roman was a better singer, if only to see the reaction, when he caught a glimpse of light.

He tugged on the reigns, leading the horse closer, heart beating quickly, and Remus even quieted in his singing as he caught sight of the light.

The creative Side hummed to himself, feeling the slow beat of a heart, of the core, mirroring his own, mirroring his brother’s. Where Logan saw white, Remus observed a play of green and red, mixing into orange and purple and pink and yellow, all the colors of the rainbow as both creative Sides fought for control of their world. And yet, they found their match, couldn’t beat the other who completed them.

“I didn’t think it’d be so stagnant,” Logan murmured, inspecting the light- it looked like a bulb of light, felt like a tennis ball instead of an entire world’s life force.

Remus giggled, silly and deranged. “It’s not, Lolo-boy. Let me _show you_.” He put his hands over Logan’s eyes, moving as if scooping up his partner’s eyeballs, grinning as he felt his sight in his palms, before putting them before his own eyes, lending them his own sight, and Logan gasped, seeing the play of colors and forms taking place in his hand.

“This is- exhilarating,” he gasped. “I have to further investigate this, the entire potential this could have, the colors- their meaning! They change so quickly, and yet- could we change your creation, would a tendency of this core make it easier, just think of the _possibilities!”_

Remus did- thought of his partner getting a lab in this world of their own, thought of him spending late nights studying his creations, thought of Logan’s clever eyes glued to all his works, glued to him, and wiggled with happiness where he stood, stepping to hug his partner from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Well, now you’re just trying to tempt me,” he laughed, and Logan snorted.

“Oh yes, obviously, that was the entire motivation behind this,” he said, deadpan, and Remus laughed, wings flaring out behind him.

They could’ve stayed there forever, just teasing and bickering and laughing, investigating a world still in the making, when-

The white forest bled away, repapered with their familiar living room, the smell of snow and pines replaced with sugar cookies and Christmas ham. 

They heard Roman gasp indignantly, puffing up like a peacock even as his wings were gone. “Patton! How dare you take Dee and I away from our date! We were just getting started!” The snake blushed; Virgil noticed with a sly grin. Dee caught it, sticking out his tongue at the _traitor_ , but Virgil just returned the gesture, unseen by Patton.

The moral Side grinned, bobbing on his feet before getting a platter of sugar cookies. “I thought you’d want to decorate these? They’ve just gotten cold enough to do it,” the Side grinned.

The mention of cookie-painting had both twins hypnotized, already moving and arguing to see who’d get what number of cookies, who would get to use up which icing first, what designs would annoy the other most- it was an annual game of icing and shoving and teasing. Remus was painting Santa Claus as he set a Christmas tree on fire, and Roman pictured an adorable couple of stick ladies kissing underneath a mistletoe, both designs inspiring equal disgust in each other, and only spurring them on to make _more._

The fierce competition gave Virgil the chance to sneak away from the kitchen, and tease Dee about his love; like the Snake wouldn’t return with anecdotes of all the times that Virgil had gone all soft and mushy for Patton. It ended with them both red as wine, Logan noted, before claiming himself to be immune to such petty feelings.

This had the other two exchanging a Look, one making it obvious that they’d used to work together, live together, scheme and plan together, as the pulled up a PowerPoint to prove the nerd wrong, and fluster him into oblivion-

But Patton got between them, saving Logan from acquiring a skin tone matching Santa’s coat, and herding them all to the coach, where he’d put on the incredible masterpiece of _The Knight Before Christmas_. He vanished the remote as soon as he sat down, grinning like a little imp, sending Roman a high-five where he was still battling his twin in the kitchen.

The moment the others noticed, Logan and Deceit started frantically searching for the remote, and Roman sprinted to the couch to stop them, grinning all the way. He found his place in Dee’s lap and next to Patton, the two sunshine Sides preparing to coo at the hallmark movie while the others groaned and teased. Remus joined the left brain Sides, all three of them muttering their criticisms of the film under their breath.

They munched on sugar cookies and sipped on hot chocolate, already hotly debating the next movie to watch under their breath, before Roman or Patton could shush them into momentary silence. The whole famILY was cuddled close together, limbs entangled so thoroughly that they didn’t even know if they’d be able to separate them when they all eventually dozed off, like they did every year. All cuddling and snoring together, bellies full to bursting with sugar cookies.

But they couldn’t complain about it, not now when they were all together, all watching a terribly cheesy movie with their famILY, the Christmas tree in the corner shimmering with lights and the stockings under the windowsill almost bursting with presents.

Not when it was Christmas, and everything was nigh-perfect. 


End file.
